It was the night of Wednesday the 26th of March; I found myself high up in the stands of the Stade de France cheering on the visiting England football team against a somewhat under strength French squad. Although the cold of that evening at times was rather piercing, the same, unfortunately could not have been said of the attacking prowess of my team as they contrived to lose 1-0 to thanks to a first half penalty. This game represented the only chance that I’d get to see my national side this year; I had hoped, thanks to the ease of commuting from Paris, that I’d get to the follow “the lads” for the first time in the midst of the forthcoming European Championships in Switzerland and Austria. But alas, fate, in the form of Croatia and Russia deprived me of my football inspired holiday in the mountains. So England supporters, just like those of the three other teams from the UK, along with the Republic of Ireland, will have to adopt a nation this summer.
If ever a team has been over hyped then it is this current England side that was christened, quite laughably with hindsight, the “Golden Generation”. For the past six years they themselves, along with some sections of the media whipped up expectations by declaring that they were the strongest group of players we have ever had and that they would end our 40 plus-year-long wait for a major international title. So two World Cups and a European Championship came and went, and what did we get? Defeat in three quarter finals…not bad but not the stuff of world beaters. And then last autumn, abject failure. They were finally shown up for what many in England now believe they are, a group of flashy individuals rather than a team, a collection of highly paid chokers, more worried about their mansions, sports cars and pop star wives and girlfriends than the honour of representing their country; a generation not so much golden but rather one of bling.
Meanwhile, whilst I was catching a cold at the Stade de France, President Sarkozy of France was in the UK as guest of honour at a banquet thrown by the Queen during the first evening of his state visit to Britain. The timing of the football match between France and the UK’s biggest constituent nation was quite apt as many of the same criticisms that the English aim at their football stars have been thrown at Sarko by the French. All of the initial promises that the President made just prior to, and after his election, of rupture and reform to galvanize France have yet, in the eyes of many, to come to fruition (however to be fair Sarko has only been at the helm for ten months whilst the England football team has been constantly predicting false dawns for around the last six years!). Added to that there is the “bling factor”, his taste for Rolexes, the highly publicised divorce, and the general sense that he has played the media game far too much, and as a consequence many French believed that this reflects badly on the institution of the presidency itself. And if that wasn’t enough, the final whirl-wind romance with and marriage to the Italian former model-turned singer, Carla Bruni did nothing to counter this perception. On the face of it, Sarko’s life was beginning to resemble at best that of an English footballer’s and at worse a storyline from a bad soap.
Sarko has been punished recently, not only in his poll ratings but also in the local elections, so with this in mind it is clear that his advisers have been keen to cast him in a more dignified and more “presidential” role, and in many ways the trip to the UK in March could not have come at a better time for him. The royal pomp and circumstance that accompanies a state visit to the UK provides the perfect environment for those who wish to appear more “stately”, providing of course that they make no serious gaffes. But this was unlikely; the Queen has been doing this for more almost 56 years, and everything is planned to the finest of details. Thankfully for Sarkozy, it would appear that both he and his hosts were up to the task. He was courteous, didn’t really put a foot wrong and charmed his hosts with praise with talk of the UK as the mother of parliamentary democracy, how France would never forget the sacrifices the British made in the War, how the French should look to the British commercial model, and also how Britain should not be reticent about playing a central role in the development of Europe. Although both the French and the British may not have agreed with all the content of his message (probably for different reasons) it was clear that its sentiment was well-received in the UK, and the French, well, they were just happy to have a president again! His approval rating of around 40% just after the visit may not have been remarkable, but in the context of the dire polls at the beginning of the year, they were certainly not going to be sniffed at in the corridors of the Elysée Palace.
However there was only one star of the show, particularly where the British were concerned, and that was Carla. The British press, Gawd bless ‘em, had decided to put a picture of the new first lady in her birthday suit (which was going to be going under the hammer in New York) in prominent positions in their papers. This certainly got people’s attention, but it was clear that from the moment she stepped off the plane with the President (dressed in a fashion evoking memories of a certain Jackie Kennedy) who the star of the show was likely to be, and so it proved to be the case. She was the talk of the UK with journalists and MPs alike swooning over her. Certainly Prince Philip seemed to enjoy her company! The French seemed pretty impressed too, mind you we’ll see if her stock remains so high over here when her latest album is released. But, in the mean time a bit of British pomp aligned with some Italian style seems to have stopped some of the rot. I, as an England football fan, can only hope that my country’s new Italian coach, Fabio Capello, can have a similar effect on my nation’s players.
